Zane was free to stand on the balcony and call himself ten kinds of blockhead. He'd let Pattie take off this morning, gabbing some nonsense about meeting the editor of the Rattler. Like an idiot, he'd believed her, as if she'd have any compunction about lying to him.
On the balcony, Zane chewed his lower lip. To be truthful, he'd been relieved to see Pattie leave. He'd come to work this morning feeling weird. Nervous. Almost...shy.
What made it worse was seeing Pattie look shy, too.
Now he wondered if she'd actually been feeling guilty. She'd probably discovered the name of the woman who lived on Mulholland, just like he had. It hadn't been difficult. And to Pattie, the name might have meant something. She knew far more about Savannah's life than Zane did.
In other words, God knew where Pattie had actually gone this morning—very carefully leaving Zane behind.
Hissing a curse, Zane uncrossed his arms and took a pace along the balcony. He'd thought he was in yesterday, had bought his ticket to be part of Pattie's amateur investigation. Instead, she was very probably leaving him out.
Zane hit his fist on the stone balustrade. If he were smart, he'd do what she wanted and forget the whole business. Why bang his head against this wall?
But dammit, he couldn't drive out of his mind the look that could cross Pattie's face now and then, the look of vulnerability.
Maybe his sister Cassie was right. He was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
He was mulling this unpleasant thought when Pattie's Rav4 came cruising from the east. Relief sifted through Zane as she turned into the street that led to the alley. He glanced at his watch.
The timing was good. She hadn't been gone long enough to have driven to Mulholland and back—or at least not long enough to have done anything significant while there. Hell, maybe she actually had gone to the office of the Rattler like she'd claimed.
To do what, though?
Two minutes later, Pattie came through the backyard gate into the courtyard, all energy and zap. She gave a start when she saw Zane standing above her.
Guilty conscience? Zane wondered.
In any case, she'd retrieved her innocent face by the time she started up the stairs.
"So." Zane crossed his arms over his chest and smiled down at her. "What did you find out about Lonny Domino at the Rattler?"
It was a guess, but a good one. Pattie nearly tripped on her next step. Her brows drew down and she continued up the stairs more slowly. "Were you talking to Bree?"
"Bree?" Zane couldn't immediately place the name.
"I guess not." Looking relieved, Pattie tried to go around Zane.
He blocked her route. "I remember now. Bree is the editor of that rag. So, what did you find out about Domino?"
Forced to a stop, Pattie looked up at Zane, two steps above her. "If you must know, I found out...nothing." She looked strangely pleased with this information.
Zane frowned. "Savannah didn't print any trash about Lonny Domino?"
"Nope."
His head tilted. "But you're looking jazzed, so..." He worked it out, the logical connection from one fact to another. His brows shot up. "If the Rattler didn't print anything about Domino, it could mean she was paying Savannah blackmail to keep her dirty secrets."
Pattie's gaze shifted to the side. Affirmation that Zane's guess matched her own.
And that his other guess had been correct, as well. She was cutting him out.
He had to grasp for his temper. Gritting his teeth, he asked, "What are you planning to do now?"
Pattie lifted a shoulder.
He should leave it alone, but— Zane took another guess. "You're planning to confront Domino with this hypothesis, see what she'll spill."
Pattie made a visible effort to bring her gaze back to Zane. Her face expressed utter innocence.
Like hell she was innocent. Anger rumbled beneath Zane's calm. Forget it. He wasn't leaving it alone. She might not want him, but she had him.
It wasn't negotiable.
"We'll just see if you do that," Zane said smoothly.
She blinked several times. "Excuse me?"
"You aren't going anywhere near Lonny Domino," Zane explained. "In fact, until you give up this crazy idea, you aren't going anywhere at all, at least not without me and Tristan tagging along."
She looked utterly flabbergasted. "What?"
Zane leaned against the railing. "You heard me. I'm not watching Tristan for you if you leave the apartment."
"But— But— It's your job to watch Tristan."
"True." Zane smiled. "But I'm in a position to dictate terms here, and I won't babysit Tristan if you leave."
Pattie's face went pink. "That's—completely ridiculous."
"Is it? Zane's smile broadened. "It's not as if you're going to be able to find anyone else who can do the job."
Pattie's nostrils flared. "But you know I can't take Tristan with me— Oh, this is insane. You can't hold me hostage here."
Zane's eyebrows arched. "On the contrary. I'm quite sure I can."
Her teeth audibly ground together. "I need to see Domino. It's the only way to get more evidence, the kind that might be good enough to show the police."
Zane hesitated. His instinct was to keep Pattie far away from a murder suspect. Unfortunately, she had a point. "Fine," he agreed slowly, thinking it out. "You go see Lonny Domino... But you take me with you."
He looked at her. She glared back at him.
"But how would that work?" Pattie finally asked, nearly hissing. "We can't take Tristan with us, and you claim to be the only one who can handle him."
"I'm the only one you know," Zane clarified, and suppressed an inward wince. He'd have to ask his sister for help, not a prospect he relished. Cassie had already made up her mind—in the negative—regarding Zane's present employer.
Meanwhile, Pattie narrowed her eyes at him. She was still obviously infuriated, but for a moment, one strange and possibly illusory second, something other than fury seemed to shimmer behind her eyes. For a second, Zane thought he saw relief.
It was a strange, quick moment. And then Pattie was back to the Pattie he knew. The one who wanted to do everything on her own. "Fine," she growled. "You win. You can come with me."
"On Saturday," Zane said, thinking of Cassie's schedule.
"Saturday," Pattie sighed, and swept past him up the stairs.
Zane's triumphant smile faded as he watched Pattie stride into the apartment. Dammit, why did he feel triumph over gaining permission to protect a woman who didn't want his protection? A woman who obviously didn't even trust him to help.
Grumbling to himself, he followed her into the house. This had to be his old hero complex kicking in, then. He couldn't possibly care about another woman who didn't trust him.
~~~
"Okay, this is book number four," Pattie warned Tristan.
Her nephew was under the Winnie the Pooh sheets in his bedroom. Pattie sat atop the blanket beside him. They'd already read books one through three right past his bedtime, but he expected four books...and he could count.
"Teletubbies," Tristan said, with relish. He adored the four, jellybean-like creatures.
"Yes, it's about the Teletubbies," Pattie agreed. She struggled to focus on the colorful book sitting in her lap. Her brain kept wandering, however, back to the argument she'd had with Zane on the balcony.
He'd twisted her arm, made her promise to let him come along when she went to confront Lonny Domino. That was bad enough.
What made it worse was that part of her felt traitorous relief that he'd done so. Yep, a part of her was glad she'd have Zane at her back.
Such relief embarrassed the hell out of her. She was supposed to take care of her own problems. What had happened to her determination? What had happened to herself?
"Weed!" Tristan commanded.
Pattie blinked and looked down at him.
His little fists clutched the edge of the sheet and his dark brown eyes glared at her. "Wee
d!" he repeated.
His indignant expression surprised a laugh out of her. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed. "Did I slow down in my reading for one split-second, Your Highness?"
Tristan's mouth curved into one of his rare smiles. "'S okay. Weed now."
"Oh, it's 'okay,' is it? It's okay with His Royal Majesty if I proceed at this point?" With her own mock indignation, Pattie poked Tristan through the blanket in the vicinity of his belly.
He jackknifed around her finger with a giggle that took her by surprise, an adorable, musical gurgle.
"Again!" Tristan demanded. He stretched himself prone on the bed.
Pattie laughed. He was demanding to be surprised with a tickle. But, hey, she was game. She poked him in the belly again.
Tristan erupted into even greater hilarity than before.
His uncomplicated joy was infectious. Soon Pattie was tickling and he was grabbing her hand, and then they were wrestling all over the bed. Pattie was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Tristan was strong and wriggly, but she could still feel his soft-doll, glass-bone fragility underneath.
"Truce! Truce," Pattie finally panted, exhausted. She flopped onto her back on the bed.
"Tooce!" Tristan agreed, though Pattie was fairly certain he had no idea what the word meant. He flopped onto his stomach beside her.
Chuckling and feeling more than a little silly, Pattie started to sit up.
Tristan started to get up, too. Then, without warning, he suddenly threw his little arms around Pattie's neck. He squeezed.
She froze. Emotion slammed through her, emotion so powerful, so passionate that she wasn't sure if it hurt or felt good. All she knew was that she couldn't move.
Tristan could move, though. He let go of her, then climbed back under the covers. In a perfectly calm voice, he said, "'kay, now. Weed."
Taking a deep breath, she looked down at him.
He appeared...unaffected. As if what had just happened were no big deal. As if he hadn't dropped any kind of bomb at all.
Pattie let out her breath. Okay, fine. She could play it that way, too. Calm. No big deal. But aftershocks shook her as she reached for the Teletubbies book. She wasn't sure she'd ever received such a pure expression of affection in her life.
Unsettled, she worked to dampen her emotions. They weren't...wise. Tristan wasn't hers. Any day now the paternity test result would come back and Nick's fatherhood would be established. Tristan would be leaving her.
She and Tristan shouldn't get too attached.
Pattie sucked in her lips while her stomach squeezed tight.
Meanwhile, Tristan went from calm to commanding, unclasping one fist from the blanket to point to the book in Pattie's hands. "Weed!"
Looking at his imperious face, Pattie felt her anxiety recede in the wake of amusement. "Quite the dictator, aren't you?"
"Jus' weed," he said.
Pattie chuckled. Being amused with Tristan was okay. Even a little affection was okay. They were aunt and nephew, after all. Just...not anything more than that. To imagine they shared the tie of a parent and child would be overdoing it.
She turned to the first page of Tristan's book. Boundaries. Now that she thought about it, the same boundary deal applied to Zane. He was Tristan's nanny, and not anything to Pattie. Not that she wanted him to be anything, for that matter. In fact, the idea made her have to stifle a laugh as she began to read to Tristan about the Teletubbies.
The only thing she wanted from Zane was—was— Well, she wasn't sure what it was, except that it couldn't be very much of anything.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"This is ridiculous, you know. I could have driven to the Valley by myself. I've only done it a million times."
Zane made no reply to this comment as he sat in the driver's seat of Pattie's car, though he nearly laughed. It was certainly easy for Pattie to say this now, now that they'd crested the Sepulveda Pass and were within a mile of his sister's place in Encino, now that they'd already weathered one of Tristan's famous backseat tantrums.
He judged it better to keep his mouth shut. Damn. He'd thought he'd inoculated himself against the physical effect Pattie had on him. He'd thought wrong. The second she'd opened the door this morning, all Amazon fierce in a tailored skirt suit, he'd gotten a hit of running hot energy. He still had a buzz now, sitting across the gearshift from her.
As he drove, his jaw tightened. His libido clearly wasn't listening to his brain. She was not. For. Him.
When Zane shifted off the freeway, Tristan quit his post-tantrum whimpering. "Are we awmos' dere?" he asked.
"Very close." Zane smiled into the rear view mirror.
Whimpers all done, Tristan looked out the window with interest.
So did Pattie.
Zane felt his nerves tighten. As he turned into the alley that led to Cassie's four-car garage, he caught himself wondering what they'd think of the place, what they'd make of his family. As if Tristan and Pattie were friends of his or something...as if they mattered.
They didn't matter. They were just his clients, for heaven's sake.
"This is it," Zane announced, pressing the clicker for the garage door. Despite his resolution, his blasted nerves slithered through his stomach.
"Fine'ly!" Tristan remarked, and began to work frantically at his seat belt.
"Hold on there, cowboy," Pattie chuckled. "Zane hasn't even parked the car yet. Wait 'til he turns off the motor and then I'll get you."
To Zane's surprise, Tristan stopped struggling with the seat belt. "'Kay," he said.
Wondering about Tristan's unwonted compliance, Zane swung Pattie's car into his own usual spot by the right wall. While Pattie fetched Tristan out of his car seat, Zane fought down his stupid anxiety and put a big smile on his face. Calm and confident—that's what he was.
"This way." He unlocked the door to the backyard and led the way in.
Brittany and Danny were both using rackets to hit a tennis ball against the garage wall. Layla was in the clover, plucking heads off dandelions.
No Cassie.
Zane suppressed a sigh of relief. He was glad he didn't have to deal with his sister right off the bat.
"Hey! Uncle Zane." Brittany caught the tennis ball and jogged over to them.
Smiling, Danny followed.
Tristan grabbed Zane's pants leg.
"Hi there, kids." Zane hoped his voice didn't sound terrified. "I'd like you to meet Pattie Bowen. And this is her nephew, Tristan."
"Hi," said Brittany, with a big smile.
"Hey," Danny put in, and grinned down at Tristan.
Tristan pulled Zane's pants leg tight and stared at the older boy.
Now what? Zane thought.
"Wanna play ball?" Danny asked Tristan.
Tristan's eyes got big. "'Kay." He released Zane's pants leg and then ran after Danny toward a grassy area beyond Layla.
"That was easy," Pattie muttered.
Hearing her, Brittany laughed. "Oh, the little ones are all terrible traitors. You should see Layla when my mom and dad leave Uncle Zane to babysit."
While they spoke, Zane noticed Cassie appear inside the screen of the back door. She didn't come out, only stood there, watching with a frown.
Unaware of her observer, Pattie arched her brows at Brittany. "What does Layla do when Uncle Zane babysits?"
"She won't even wave when my mom goes out the door." Brittany aped a gesture of dismissal. "The last time, Layla even told her to 'go away' when Mom tried to get a goodbye kiss!"
Pattie laughed.
Through the screen, Cassie's frown deepened.
Looking at his sister, Zane frowned, too.
"Whoa!" Pattie suddenly exclaimed. One instant she was standing next to Zane, the next she was racing across the lawn.
Looking over, Zane saw Tristan flat on his face in the grass. Preoccupied with watching Cassie, he hadn't noticed the accident. Now he stood next to Brittany, about as useful as a toad.
"Are you okay? Let me see." Pattie
took Tristan's shoulders as he started to get up.
Tristan's expression moved from stunned to uncertain. Do I want to cry?
Zane hissed in a breath. If Pattie showed any concern it'd push the kid over the edge. He'd jump right into an hysterical crying jag.
But Pattie's expression cleared as she peered into Tristan's pouting face. "Oh, you're okay." She stated this rather than asked—exactly what Zane would have done—and then she laughed.
Tristan's uncertainty turned into a smile. He burst out laughing, too, as if the fall had been a joke he'd done on purpose.
Zane blinked, surprised. No, he was amazed. If he weren't mistaken, Pattie was starting to understand Tristan.
The idea made him feel strange. Weirdly gratified. Then he heard the screen door bang shut.
Cassie had come outside.
Zane looked over in time to catch one extremely dirty look from his sister before she proceeded toward Pattie, who was getting up from the grass beside Tristan.
"Hi." Cassie wore a big, sunny smile. "You must be Pattie Bowen. I'm Cassie, Zane's long-suffering sister."
"Oh." Pattie scrambled the rest of the way to her feet in order to accept Cassie's outstretched hand. "How do you do? Um... Long-suffering?"
Cassie smiled. "Zane isn't always clear about things. Ah, let's see. This must be Tristan."
"That's right." Pattie turned to the boy, but he was backing away.
"Pway ball!" he shouted, and ran toward Danny.
Pattie shook her head. "Afraid he doesn't have too many manners yet."
"Oh, it takes awhile...maybe fifty years." Cassie chuckled. "At least, I hope my husband will have picked up a few by then."
Pattie laughed.
Hello? Frowning, Zane moved toward them. Both women ignored him.
"So." Cassie's tone was friendly and conversational. "I hear you're actually new at the parenting thing."
"You wouldn't believe how new." Pattie rolled her eyes. "I'd never even babysat before Tristan dropped into my life."
"It must be quite an adjustment." Smiling and shifting her weight to one hip, Cassie looked like she intended a cozy chat with Pattie. This was nothing like the darkly suspicious sister Zane had faced the other night when he'd asked her to watch his employer's toddler child for him while he and his employer...attended to an important errand.
If I Loved You Page 12